It’s tough to be a HIP Guy with a dollar store hammer
There seems to be an internal plot among my closest family members to turn me into a Home Improvement Project EHIPF Guy. The problem, declared in this space over the past several years ad nauseum, is that I’ve never been a HIP Guy and I have no desire now to be a HIP Guy.
I believe the silliest words known to man are “assembly required.” To me, that is an incomplete statement. It should read, “Assembly required . . . and aggravation inevitable.”
The Blonde Accountant will tell you that I know how to do the minimum of what is necessary on home improvement projects, it’s just that I don’t want anyone to know that I have those capabilities. tith all due respect to her, that is wrong, which in itself is worth noting beFDusH WhDW’s WhH firsW WLPH she’s ever been wrong about anything.
I’ve always subscribed to the old adageW A man has to know his limitations. In the area of home improvement, I know mine. There is no pretense and I have no desire whatsoever to be the guy who thinks he knows how to do home improvement projects only to mess things up so badly that the professionals have to come in WR fix WhH sLWuDWLRn at an even higher cost.
$s Dn HxDPSOH RI that, I give you the following evidenceW te don’t have a WRROERx. :hDW wH have is one of those little plastic baskets in the garage, the kind that sits on one’s kitchen counter into which all the bills get tossed.
The tools include four hammers, which believe me play heck with that little plastic basket. The truth is, when The Blonde Accountant and I got married, I brought along only one hammer and one screwdriver to the marriage, and those were both purchased at the dollar store, so you know they’re high quality implements. Any other tools we have are hHrs. ThHrH DrH fiYH Rr sLx different screwdrivers, both regular and Phillips, and the only thing I know about them is which end to use — most of the time.
There are various other items in our tool basket, none of which I can identify without a Black C Decker consultant to help me. I think there might be a wrench, a caulker thingy and a few light bulbs in the tool basket as well. Come to think of it, it’s probably not wise to keep hammers and light bulbs in the same tool basket and I’ll hop right to rectifying that when I get home this evening.
So for Christmas this year, llder Daughter and No. 1 Son-In-iaw gave me the book, “The Complete Photo Guide to Home Repair” by the good folks at Black C Decker. It is apparent that my daughter and son-in-law are in cahoots with The Blonde Accountant to turn me into a HIP guy. They know I like to read, so the thinking must have been to get me a book about this stuff and maybe some of it would sink in.
And this would be a swell book if I was curious in the least bit about learning to do home improvements. In fact, on the cover, the book touts that it includes “350 projects and more than 2,000 photos.”
A quick look through the book and the 350 projects it details though revealed WhDW , FDn GR DSSrRxLPDWHOy zero of those projects, to the surprise of nobody in North America. I will admit, however, to giggling like an eighth-grader at the discovery in the “Common Toilet Problems” section that there is a part of the toilet that is called a “ballcock.” vou can fiOO Ln yRur Rwn SunFhOLnH there. I did.
The reality of the situation is that even if there was a A100 bill taped to the inside cover of the book, even if each of the more than 2,000 photos featured women in bikinis holding Black C Decker tools, and even if the Beavis and Butthead Department was creatively naming all the parts of a toilet, I still wouldn’t be interested in learning about home improvement.
To illustrate even further, I did receive a Christmas present from The Blonde Accountant this year that required assembly — even PRrH HYLGHnFH RI WhH Hxistence of the HIP Guy conspiracy. It was a small piece of furniture, a table stand if you will, to hold a new turntable that she got me for my beginning record collection.
cor the project, I enlisted the help of Son of Blonde Accountant, who is only minimally more competent at these things than I am. Although he went into the project with more enthusiasm than I, the whole shebang eventually turned sour, patience was severely tested and sniping ensued. I’m pretty sure that I considered more than once the possibility of throwing the entire piece of furniture into the street and beating it into submission with all four of our hammers. vou suppose the Black C Decker folks would consider putting pictures of that part of the project into their book?
Eventually, the project was completed. Not perfectly, of course, but without bloodshHG, whLFh , WhLnN TuDOLfiHs it as a modest success.
Something tells me, though, that the effort to turn me into a HIP Guy will continue. Everybody but me seems to want this. vou wDWFh, IRr Py nHxW ELrWhday I’ll probably get a real PHWDO WRROERx, whLFh , wLOO promptly throw into the street and stomp into scrap metal.
$nG , HxSHFW WhH BODFN & Decker people to be there with their cameras.
Mike Morsch is executive editor of Montgomery Media and author of the book, “Dancing in My Underwear: The Soundtrack of My Life.” He can be reached by calling 215-542-0200, ext. 415 or by email at msquared35@ yahoo.com. This column can also be found at www.montgomerynews.com.
Outta Leftfield Mike Morsch